


The Family That Slays Together

by wargoddess



Series: A Family Affair [10]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Dress Up, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Rape, Multi, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, Sex Pollen, Tails, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 14:38:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19211479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: A new demon king threatens the human realm, again. Sparda's boys are on the case.





	The Family That Slays Together

**Author's Note:**

> Actual warning for rape discussion and allusion, this time, re Vergil's past. Also, this one takes place maybe three years after "Fatherly Guidance," thus the "established relationship" tag.
> 
> A lot of this will make no sense if you haven't read the rest of the "Family Affair" series. But if you really want to try it -- Vergil, Nero, and Dante are in an incestuous poly relationship of several years' running at this point. There's a lot of semi-animalistic dom/sub undercurrents, because Dante and Vergil don't exactly think like human beings and because Nero's learning to be like them. And they fuck a lot because demons basically run on blood, sex, and violence, and Nero won't let them do violence. So, enjoy.

     Another city terrorized.  Another dark tower sprung whole from the earth.  And Vergil, once again, at the top of it.

     He stood with Yamato braced against the ground, his hands resting atop its head.  There was a dragon embossed there, pressing into his palm.  As a boy -- alone, survival dependent on mastering his own fear -- he had learned to meditate upon the dragon, tracing its sinuous curves and delicately-etched lines with his mind and the lightest of pressures upon the artwork.  The flowerlike pattern of its scales.  The ouroburous of its looping flight.  The prominence of its broad head, tiny cold eyes challenging any who dared look into them, ready to cut them down.

     Would it be Dante, first?  Or Nero? 

     The wind atop the tower was brisk with the approach of winter.  Vergil ignored the cold out of long habit, but the sound was a problem.  The gusts were loud enough to cover the sound of any stealthy approach.

     Foolishness, he chided himself.  Dante didn't have a stealthy bone in his body.  If he decided to kill Vergil, Vergil would see, hear, feel, smell, sense, and probably taste him coming.

     Like now.  From the street below, the vulgar, rattling snarl of Cavaliere, in motorcycle form.  Tearing up the road at full speed.  Vergil sighed.

     And.  Hmm.  Familiar screech of tires and overclocked engine.  The human engineer Nico had installed demonic-energy-infused components in Nero's ridiculous van; that was the only way the thing could survive her driving.  He suspected that the boy was at the wheel himself, this time, if only because the van wasn't trying to drive over buildings.  But it was also gunning at full speed.

     Well.  This would make things interesting, at least.  Vergil shut his eyes, listened to the wind, and meditated upon Yamato's dragon again.

     After a time, the great bronze doors which led to the tower roof opened behind him.  Two sets of steps:  Dante's familiar boxer's dance -- though he would scoff to be described so -- and Nero's heavier, more menacing prowl.  So much rage inside the boy, and yet he so rarely expressed it outside of battle.  In loving, he was shy, sensuous when he didn't stop to think about it, greedy.  In the every day, his earnestness made Vergil marvel that such a child could have sprung from him.  In battle, however, there was nothing in Nero but sadistic, inhuman savagery.  Amazing that he had ever believed himself fully human.

     Vergil turned -- and felt a subtle tension loosen within him.  Nero, then.  Not alone, but taking the lead.  Dante had stopped just past the door, legs braced in a subtle ready stance, his expression set and too neutral.  Nero was easier to read as he kept coming, though warily.  His eyes searched and searched Vergil's face, wanting a reason to believe in him.  Easy to guess the dynamics:  Nero had managed to convince Dante, just, to withhold judgment before deciding that Vergil had betrayed them.  And Dante must have wanted to be convinced.  Otherwise Nero would be dead, and Dante and Vergil would already be engaged in battle.

     "I'm glad you're here," Vergil told them, honestly.  He said this mostly to Nero, but he meant Dante as well.

     Nero nodded, still wary.  Good boy.  "Want to tell us what all this is about?"

     "I received a message today.  From Zva-ad-zum, the new king of the demon world.  He's coming to visit tonight at midnight."

     That did it.  Dante rocked back out of his ready stance, then finally came to join them.  Nero, clever child, got right to the point, though he also looked shocked.  "So... this tower is a place for us to meet them?  Oh, I get it.  When you raised it, half the town cleared out, and the other half is on its way.  We can fight them all out, if we have to, without any humans getting hurt."  


     "If we have to."  Vergil nodded.  "Yes."

     Nero looked relieved to find a method to Vergil's madness.  "But still, why -- oh, shit."  He stared at Vergil.  "You, Urizen I mean, used to be the demon king."

     "Technically, I still am," Vergil said, shrugging.  "After all, no one's killed me, yet."

     Dante snorted -- or was that a snarl?  Vergil watched him turn to pace restlessly, reading the hints of growing anger in his posture.  "And they're coming all this way to try?  Stupid.  No one gets to kill you but me."

     Vergil raised his eyebrows, surprised but pleased by this reaction.  "Or I you, brother, as always."

     Nero growled too, more in irritation than any threat, but he was tense, standing with his weight forward, right hand flexing.  No need for a demon's rage with this one.  "Will you both stop it with the death threats?  Every fucking time I turn my back, I swear."  He faced Vergil, however, subtly at attention.  "What do you need me to do?"

     Dante stopped pacing with his shoulders back, head tossed back arrogantly, and mouth pulled to one side in a sour half-smile.  But he, too, had oriented on Vergil, silently acknowledging him as the lead in this.  That was very good -- much better than Vergil had hoped for, in fact.  They didn't have much time to prepare.

     "Come," he said, and led them within the Nameless Tower.

     The Nameless had been one of the prototypes for the Temen-ni-gru.  Vergil had discovered it during his research into Sparda's past, and dismissed it at the time; it contained an openable hellgate, but of the type that allowed passage for only small groups at a time, at best.  Sparda had not considered it particularly dangerous or important, so he had merely sealed it and focused his efforts on the massive permanent gate at the Temen-ni-gru.  Now that Vergil had raised the Nameless, however, he was pleased to find this tower far more elegant and comfortable than its successor.  As they walked down its winding stairs and through its vaulted corridors, plush carpets turned red and tapestries of battle scenes unfurled around them, and sconces lit with eldritch glows.

     "Homey," Dante said, with visible distaste.

     "There are magic spells in place here that provide guests with food, drink, or other comforts upon demand, and adjust decor per the will of the tower's master."

     "Great," Nero sighed.  "I gotta introduce you to postmodernism.  Look, Father, if these demons are coming to fight -- "

     "They aren't," Dante said, to Vergil's surprise.  He hadn't expected his brother to understand demonic politics.  But that wasn't it; Dante just understood _him_.  He watched Vergil now, an uncharacteristic frown etched on his brow.  "That's what all this is about, right, Vergil?  If they wanted to just push through and attack the human world, they'd have done so by now.  Father's seal has been broken for a while."

     Vergil acknowledged this with a nod.  "The last two demon kings who attempted to do so -- namely, Mundus and Urizen -- met untimely ends at your hands.  And you, Nero, keep killing any runners-up for the throne, whenever they're stupid enough to step through a portal."  Vergil shrugged.  "So to put it simply, the demon world is afraid of us.  And they're coming here, now, to demonstrate that they're _not_ afraid of us."

     Nero rubbed his face with his hands.  "God, I think I've been hanging around you idiots too much.  That actually made sense." 

     Dante cuffed him, affectionately.  "Takes one to know one."

     "Shut up, old man."  But he did not dodge the cuff, despite his grumbling.

     Vergil sighed a little, and they finally seemed to remember that an interdimensional crisis faced them.  "It seems clear," he said as they proceeded through the transforming corridors of the tower, "that this Zva-ad-zum has decided to approach us as equals."  Dante snorted, before Vergil could.  "Yes, well.  This creature is no Mundus, or even a Urizen -- but if he has indeed taken command of Hell's legions, then he has the strength of numbers on his side.  A full-out attack on the human realm, through every portal they can force open..."  Nero was staring at him, eyes widening as the scope of the problem finally struck home, and Dante sighed.  Vergil nodded.  "It would be Redgrave again, but all over the world."

     Silence from both of them, now.  Nero, he guessed, was simply horrified by the idea of countless weak humans being set upon by every otherworldly predator that wanted a snack.  Dante's silence was more accusatory, since after all Vergil had been responsible for Redgrave. 

     Or perhaps Vergil was projecting.

     No matter.

     "The solution, therefore," Vergil continued, "is for us to convince them not to attack, in a way that satisfies what passes for honor among demons.  A king of Hell, after all, can bear no superior... but a _rival_ of equal power, ensconced in some other kingdom, is another matter entirely.  Any king is glorified by the strength of his enemies."

     "A rival..."  Nero frowned.  "You?  But..."

     " _Us_ ," Vergil replied.  "Me, alone, Zva-ad-zum would attack.  In his eyes, I am Urizen weakened by the return of my 'inferior' human element.  And while I would certainly destroy him, the battle might take time.  There aren't enough devil hunters in the world to defend every gate -- even if we knew where every gate was."

     "Which we don't.  Okay, got it.  Fuck."

     Vergil shrugged.  "Defeating him would also create an entirely different problem, because I have no wish to become a demon king again.  I remember my time as Urizen.  Apart from fighting you and Dante, it was unbearably dull."

     Dante laughed.  "Had no business cutting yourself in half, dumbass."

     "I'm aware, thank you."

     "So the two of you together are too powerful for this guy to attack," Nero said, slowly, as he chewed on all of it.  "And at the same time, _so_ powerful that it makes him look good to square off with you?  Have I got that right?"

     "Almost."  Vergil smiled.  "You've forgotten the threat that _you_ represent.  They have, too, and that's an advantage we can use.  But the fundamental problem remains:  the underworld still thinks of the human realm as _theirs_ \-- a feeding ground for the taking, to be exploited whenever possible.  It's time for that to change."

     They reached a chamber near the top of the tower which was wide and high-ceilinged, and ringed about with stained-glass windows depicting three phases of a solar eclipse.  At the center of the chamber, a series of mounting steps surrounded what was unmistakably a platform meant for a throne.  In lieu of a single throne, however, Vergil had willed the tower to produce two, side-by side and slightly oriented toward one another.  The one on the right was a stately thing of black marble and fine-grained leather, set with panels of bone carved to depict the eldritch horrors of todash space.  Its left arm was set with a sleeve of horn, to hold Yamato. 

     The other throne was just a simple wooden chair, but then Dante uttered a low chuckle and stepped forward to touch it.  It transformed at once beneath his hand -- becoming a hideous thing made of hundreds of welded-together guns, shaped around what looked like chrome exhaust piping.  Dante flopped down in it at once, though the metal seat hardly looked comfortable.  It probably helped that he sprawled across it, one leg tosed over an arm, rather than sitting down directly.  Vergil sighed inwardly, but he did have to admit that the throne suited Dante.  And perhaps it was fitting that, side by side, the two thrones complemented each other well, neither overwhelming nor obscuring the other.

     "What about me?" Nero asked.  There was no jealousy in his voice or expression, Vergil noted.  The boy crawled with insecurities at the best of times, but this was no longer one of them -- not since they had assured him of his place among them.  He merely looked around the chamber, frowning and perhaps trying to see it as a demon would.  "I get that I haven't killed or been a demon king, but if I'm just hanging around nearby looking like a third wheel, I don't know how that's going to help."

     "I have a special role in mind for you," Vergil said.  "It may be difficult for you -- but in some ways it will be the most important role of all.  After all, you're the most human of us."  When Nero frowned just a little, possibly trying to fathom whether Vergil regarded that as a good or bad thing, Vergil reached up to cup his jaw, drawing a thumb along his bottom lip.  That softened him at once, as it always did, and he ducked his eyes for a moment before looking up at Vergil through his lashes.  Lovely, touch-hungry demon child, and living symbol of humanity's hidden strength.  He had no idea how perfect he was.

     Well.  It was time for that to change, too, wasn't it?

#

     Midnight.

     Above the empty city, the Nameless Tower shivered with the imposition of another reality upon itself.  Deep within the tower's bowels, arcane mechanisms began to crank for the first time in millennia, harnessing the energy of the gate as it opened, and channeling this energy into the tower's ancient power systems.  Hauntingly, beautifully, the tower's walls began to glow a soft, pale white.

     Which should please Nero, Vergil contemplated, as he waited on his throne for their guests to hone in on his aura and appear before them.  Aglow, the Nameless Tower was now less gothic and more fairy castle, albeit still with a touch of otherworldly eerieness in its lines and looming architecture.  The demons would probably hate it.

     They appeared silently in the throne room, with a faint puff of displaced sulfur-laden air.  There were four of them, which Vergil thought was hilarious.  Did they think having double the number would save them, if Vergil and Dante took exception to their presence?  Two he immediately dismissed as guards or something similar; powerful, but unimportant.  Zva-ad-zum was immediately identifiable by the fact that he was a solid ten feet or so taller than the rest, his mere presence dominating the room.  A muscular warrior of a creature, with shoulders like a mountain range and arms like rocky hills -- four of them -- and skin the color of old yellowed parchment.

     Beside Zva-ad-zum stood a human-sized demon, though this one was nearly as visually impressive:  tall and slender, magenta-skinned with long, sleek black hair worked into an ornate, decorative coif.  Plenty of it hung free to brush the hem of his layered, smoke-colored robes.  When he stepped forward and spread his hands for a deep, elaborate bow, Vergil saw that the fingers were webbed, though the last two on each hand elongated into some other-than-human configuration that vanished into his voluminuous sleeves.  Too pretty to be a fighter.  Demons didn't evolve themselves that way unless they used deception to hunt -- or unless they wanted the protection of a bigger, stronger demon, in exchange for the small price of sexual slavery.  It did not mean they weren't dangerous... and something about this demon made Vergil's instincts prickle with warning, more than they had for Zva-ad-zum.  Curious.

     The pretty demon said, "I am Myst, who speaks for the Dominance Zva-ad-zum.  I bear his greetings to the sons of the rebel knight Sparda:  Vergil the elder, and Dante the younger.  You are in the presence of mightiest among the underworld host, king upon the throne of blood; be honored that he deigns to address you."  He bowed again.

     "No," Vergil said.

     Myst paused in mid-bow, frowning a little.  "Pardon?"

     Vergil sighed.  "There's no reason for us to feel particularly honored, and that was a terrible greeting.  Do it again."  Beside him, Dante snickered.

     "I..."  Myst straightened and glanced at Zva-ad-zum, who gazed into the middle distance and did not acknowledge the glance in any way that Vergil could fathom.  Then one of the guard-demons stepped forward, baring sharp teeth.

     "Why do we humor them?" she asked, in a voice like knives on a sewer grate.  "These hybrid freaks are nothing to you, my lord.  Just because Sparda sullied himself with one of their she-apes is no reason to -- "

     There was a flicker at the corner of Vergil's vision.  Abruptly the demon stopped talking, her eyes widening, as Dante dropped out of the air behind her, still spinning from the momentum of his strike.  Before his feet could alight on the floor, he flickered again, settling back into his former sprawl on his throne.  He yawned.  As he did so, the guard-demon's body slid apart in five or six roughly equal pieces.  Zva-ad-zum did not react, but Myst and the other guard-demon flinched as their companion fell apart.

     "Found the stupid one," Dante said, with an _I win_ grin.

     "Brother."  Vergil eyed him.  "I said we _needed_ a stupid one.  That sort are useful for so many things."

     Dante rolled his eyes and gestured at the demons.  "There's a spare!  Or two, maybe."  Then he focused on them, his smile growing an edge.  "I guess we'll have to see if another of them is dumb enough to insult our mother."

     "I suppose we must."  With a sigh, Vergil steepled his fingers and regarded Zva-ad-zum and Myst over them.  "Have we established yet that insults will not be tolerated?  Or can we dispense with this posturing, and get to business?"

     Myst watched them coldly now, hatred plain on his face.  He glanced at Zva-ad-zum, however, and again some unspoken communication passed between them.  Then Myst inclined his head -- not a bow this time, merely a greeting.  "Very well, Vergil-who-was-Urizen, and Dante, slayer of the Darkness Mundus.  Yes, it's best we get to business.  We -- "

     "Hang on," Dante said, stretching and sitting up.  "It's not just us, here."  He raised his voice.  "Kid?  You coming?"

     When Nero emerged from the archway on the side of the throne room, all of the demons' gazes locked onto him.  And no wonder.  The power of the Nameless Tower had changed his look in response to their unified will, and the young man who strolled in radiated power and beauty in equal measure.  He wore a modified version of his blue sleeveless coat, this one double-hemmed and made of heavy brocade, embroidered on its front panels with crimson motifs suggesting the claws of his demon shape.  His low-slung pants, of a softer, flowy material, complemented the coat well, as did his bare feet.  Those had been Vergil's suggestion, over Nero's loud objections.  At ankles, throat, wrists, and around each ear, he wore plain silver cuffs -- Dante's addition to the outfit, and Vergil had to admit that they suited him.  He needed no makeup, his eyes being naturally shadowed and lips softly red; _dick-sucking lips_ , Dante had declared them once.  Vergil had thought the term himself many times since while enjoying those lips' talents, though he took care never to say it in Nero's presence.  Nero tolerated teasing from Dante, but he took Vergil's words seriously -- and he was far, far too skilled in that area to have it hampered by careless handling. 

     But now, adorned like the prince he was, it all showed.  The grace of his predator's walk.  The strength in his lean body.  He looked at Vergil and Dante as he came in, as Vergil had instructed him, because he could not do so without something of his feelings showing in his body language:  his posture shifted subtly from threat to invitation, and all of his shyness fell away, lost to the singular focus that came of love.  And though the demons probably wouldn't understand the love, they _would_ notice the way this wild, powerful creature offered himself to Vergil and Dante, proclaiming himself theirs with every line of his body.

     He sat down on the steps at their feet -- casually, with one knee drawn up and one arm propped on it, his back against Vergil's throne -- and glared at their guests.  Didn't like demons ogling him, did he?  Vergil put a hand down and grazed the backs of his fingers against the edge of Nero's jaw, and he settled at once, turning to nuzzle Vergil's fingers with an artlessness that he couldn't possibly have planned.

     And all three of the demons stared at him with such palpable hunger that it was a wonder they weren't stalking him already.

     "My son," Vergil said, before any of them got ideas about starting a war.  He smiled.  "Nero is our heir, and thus will be joining us for the negotiations."

     "Your son?"  Myst blinked, as if waking from a trance.  "Not even a half-breed, then?"

     Dante raised his eyebrows, and Vergil folded his hands.  "Hmm," he said, thoughtfully.

     Quickly Myst held out his hands.  "I meant no offense.  Only..."  And then, abruptly, he inhaled.  "You said _heir_."

     "Hey, this one's not as stupid as the other one," Dante drawled.  "Damn.  Little slow on the uptake, though."

     "You've come to this realm," Vergil said, spreading his hands, "to pay court to us.  Have you not?  The new king of the underworld greets his counterparts in the human world, so that we might establish diplomatic relations and negotiate a peace treaty."  While the demons stared at him, he raised his eyebrows.  "I _assumed_ that was the case.  Or have you come for some other reason?"

     Myst's pinkish lips had gone white.  He got it, all right.  The demon world's emissaries had come to size up Zva-ad-zum's ostensibly weakened predecessor, and to begin claiming their share of human prey once again, as they had in the time before Sparda's rebellion.  But if Vergil and Dante had an _heir_ , then that meant they weren't sitting on thrones for their health.  Vergil had just effectively declared the human realm a sovereign kingdom... and with a single word, he had just made himself and Dante its sovereigns.  To which most of humankind would probably object, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

     Myst turned to Zva-ad-zum, who stirred at last, narrowing his eyes at Vergil.  Vergil had a moment to hope that this demon would be as stupid as his dead subordinate.  He felt Dante's eager tension in his mind, and had to fight not to smile in pure anticipation.  Killing them would be fun.

     But then Zva-ad-zum said in a voice like road gravel, "You assume correctly."

     At once, Myst turned back to them and bowed deeply again.  "Please forgive my lack of clarity," he said -- and then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, "o great Devil Kings of the Human Realm.  I offer greetings to you, and to your heir Prince Nero, from Zva-ad-zum the Demon King.  May we speak at length, now?"

     Dante laughed in open contempt, but he eyed Vergil.  Vergil sat back, steepling his fingers and allow himself a small, cruel smile.

     " _Much_ better," he said to Myst.  "Now we can begin."

#

     There wasn't a lot of negotiation to be done right then and there.  Matters of courtesy being what they were, it quickly became clear that the demons would have to stay the night, and begin the talks the following evening, when everyone was fresh.  Anything else put one party or the other at a disadvantage -- and made explicit the fact that neither Vergil nor Dante was remotely afraid of offending their guests.  That would force Zva-ad-zum to react to their disrespect by unleashing the only threat he had:  a mass demon attack on the human world.  No one wanted that.

     Still, Vergil kept them standing there for a good while, mostly out of pique that they had given such short notice before arriving.  He had also decided to probe them for hidden agendas, intellectual weaknesses, and the like.  In this contest, Myst proved a skilled opponent, and after a while Vergil settled into the back-and-forth of it with something approaching pleasure.  There were many ways to test oneself in combat, after all.  Though, irritatingly, Dante fell asleep in the middle of it.

     Nero, to Vergil's great pleasure, did not, following the proceedings as intently as if they faced mortal enemies -- which, of course, they did.  After a time, however, he began to shift restlessly, his attention wandering as he looked elsewhere.  Eventually he shifted from Vergil's feet to Dante's, rubbing at the back of his neck as if it was stiff.  Understandable, Vergil supposed; the talks had gone on rather long.  It might be time to wrap things up.

     He glanced over at Dante again, expecting to have to wake his twin -- and found, to his surprise, that Dante was already awake.  Yawning in apparent boredom... but no.  Vergil knew the difference between Dante bored, and Dante faking boredom so that no one would realize how much attention he was actually paying.  As Vergil watched, Dante put a hand down and idly began to play with Nero's hair, as he so often did.  Nero, who usually batted Dante's hand away or pretended to dislike the gestures while noticeably leaning into them, sat very still beneath the touch.  When Vergil glanced at him in puzzlement -- fleetingly; Myst and his lord were watching every move they made -- he realized Nero's face was flushed, his eyes glazed.  He did not meet Vergil's gaze... but now that Vergil was attuned to him again, he felt it:  arousal, thick and hot, and powerful enough that it was all he could do not to start begging them for sex.  He was fighting it, and Dante's touch helped, but slowly, surely, he was losing ground to the tide of lust.

     Not his own lust.

     Vergil kept talking.  He had no choice.  This was an attack, he understood at once, and they could not show that the blow had struck, not without losing face.  One of their guests -- which one? -- had decided to use Nero to embarrass Dante and Vergil, or perhaps to test the boy's strength of will.  From the corner of his eye, while he talked, Vergil watched Dante slide a finger over Nero's lips, again with seeming idleness.  Nero shut his eyes, focusing on that touch.  Letting Dante distract him, so that he would not pant aloud or groan in rut or flee the room.  Dante's touching was no different from the small gestures of affection they all showed one another, in private.  Still, that the lust-spell, or whatever it was, had forced Nero to need this in front of enemies... that was the true grotesquerie of the whole thing.  And someone would die for it. 

     Which one?  Zva-ad-zum had resumed staring into the middle distance.  Concentrating on some sort of subtle magic?  But he was too obvious a culprit.  One of the demon king's retainers, then?  Or perhaps more demons had come into the Nameless Tower than just these three.  Vergil could not sense them, but there were some, exceptional at stealth, who could fool him for a time.  Who could Vergil kill, to help Nero?

     Dante yawned again, loudly, and Vergil glanced at him.  He was watching Vergil.  _Calm the fuck down_ , his face said -- and belatedly, Vergil realized he was so furious that he'd edged close to a full demonic transformation.  Which was completely unacceptable.

     Nero shifted, abruptly, coming to lean against Vergil's throne again, and tilting his head back as if casually resting there.  Vergil focused on the long line of his son's throat, and the rapid beat of the pulse there.  Yes... yes.  Permitting himself a little sigh to vent some of his fury, he slid a hand down to drag his fingers along the line of Nero's nearer throat-tendon.  Then further down, into the open gap of his coat.  When Nero stretched a little, pretending boredom and presenting himself, Vergil could not help a smile.  Such a clever young man.  Vergil's claws slid forth, and he played them over Nero's skin, letting the smell of blood cool his head.  Nero sighed too, stretching again in subtle relief; the pain was helping him focus through the relentless beat of the spell.

     "Well," Vergil said at last, when he judged that he'd talked long enough to show them that neither he nor his family could be manipulated in such a shallow way.  "I suppose we'll have to continue the discussion of hunting rights later.  On behalf of the human realm, may I offer you our hospitality for the coming day?"

     "We would be grateful," Myst said with another bow, that did not at all show how irritated he must be at having been kept standing for hours.  Zva-ad-zum might have been a giant doll beside him, for all that he showed anything.  Clever, that; Vergil kept forgetting that the demon king mattered.  Perhaps it was some strategy of theirs, but to what end?  He didn't care.  Whichever one had attacked Nero was going to die.

     Then Myst blinked as if only just recalling Nero's presence.  "My lord Vergil?  Is everything all right?"  He nodded pointedly toward Nero.

     Vergil didn't bother following the gesture.  Nero healed nearly as quickly as Vergil's claws made their marks, but his chest would be streaked with shed blood.  "What do you mean?" he asked Myst, with a pleasant smile.

     "Your son," Myst said, delicately.

     ( _Him_ , Vergil's demon whispered, hungry for death.  _Perhaps_ , Vergil cautioned.  They could not be manipulated.  They would be sure -- and then they would rip their foe apart.  _But of course_ , the demon agreed.  And then, once again, Vergil and his other self were one.)

     Nero sighed then in real relaxation, turning his face to press against Vergil's arm.  In perfect control, and content, beneath the loving claws of his father.

     Vergil smiled in genuine pleasure.  Nero had beaten them. 

     "He is delightful, isn't he?"  Lightly, he grazed a thumbclaw along Nero's lips, and Nero put out his tongue to touch it, deliberately pressing until a drop of blood rose beneath its sharp tip.  He'd always loved Vergil's claws.  "Someday I might like to show him the underworld, land of his grandfather."

     "We would be happy to arrange a visit, once negotiations are concluded," Myst said, with another bow.  "Although he is, ah..."

     Vergil lifted an eyebrow and said nothing, letting him have more rope for the hanging.

     Myst seemed to sift through and discard several phrases before settling on, "We would take the greatest of care with the prince, if you allowed the visit.  A security detail of our strongest high-order demons."

     Vergil laughed, once.  "That would be a waste of resources.  He is, after all, my son."

     And Nero, languid, beautiful, _perfect_ , turned his head to favor Myst with a look of such utter disdain that Myst actually drew back a little.

     "Now."  Vergil gestured, and a small wisp appeared beyond the demons' party.  "That will show you to your accommodations for the night.  I hope you'll find them suitable.  Food and drink will be made available to you; you have only to ask the tower.  Tomorrow, at sunset, we can resume our talks."

     Myst bowed, a little awkwardly this time, and he threw another, unreadable, glance at Nero when he straightened, before turning to follow the wisp.  Zva-ad-zum looked at Nero, too, his gaze flat, but lingering.  Then he jerked his head at his remaining guard, and they all turned to leave.  The dead guard's body had vanished in the interim, scattering into dust and mist as demon flesh did in this realm.

     Vergil waited until he was certain that they had gone, and then he rose.  Nero did too, with credible smoothness, but Vergil knew him; that was not his usual grace.  Without Vergil's claws or Dante's caresses to focus him, the need had returned, more fierce than ever.

     Dante sat glaring after their guests for a moment before joining them, and they all moved toward the suite they'd chosen, not far off the throne room.  "Not Zva-ad-zum," Dante said, in a low voice that thrummed with subhuman rage.  He was as protective of Nero as Vergil himself, much to Nero's occasional irritation. "But if it was the mouthy one, I couldn't tell how.  No hand-gestures, no enchanted weapons, not even dirty looks."

     "It came on slow," Nero said.  He had fixed his gaze on the floor, concentrating to keep his walk steady, but he was going to break soon.  Vergil could feel it.  "Subtle.  Thought I was just bored, then I started thinking about -- "  He cut himself off sharply enough that his teeth clicked.  "By the time I realized something was wrong..."

     "Enough," Vergil said.  If there were other demons loose in the palace, they could not speak freely.

     He had warded their suite against intrusion, and a quick check confirmed that the wards were all still in place and unbreached.  Nero, back straight, hands in fists, went into his bedroom at a steady pace, not letting any of his torment show.  Vergil's proud, strong son, who would not let their enemies rule him.  After watching this, Vergil pushed the heavy door shut, locked it with a key and a command to the Tower, then stood there, hands braced on the door, breathing hard. 

     Dante backed toward Nero's room, watching Vergil with a frown. "What the hell?  Now's not the time to make him wait."

     Vergil could feel Nero's need, and his own need to respond was a great roiling thundercloud of a thing.  Beautiful boy.  His.  Vergil would be kind to him this time, hold him down gently, lick every drop of sweat and blood from his skin until --  With a soft hiss, Vergil shook his head.  "We'll take turns," he said.  "One to keep watch, the other with Nero."  With enemies sharing their roof, they could not relax their guard even slightly.

     Dante raised both eyebrows, already in the middle of shucking off his coat.  "Fine by me," he said.  "Didn't think you were in a sharing mood, though."

     Vergil was not.  Nero was his -- no.  Nero was theirs; Dante had fought for him as well, laid claim to him as well, and he was more than worthy.  Well.  With Dante, he could share.  Be patient.  Turn his energies toward planning vengeance, instead of jealousy.

     Still.

     "Leave the blood," he growled, his mouth crowding with teeth before he got himself under control.  "That's for me."

     Dante smiled lopsidedly.  "I'll tag you in as soon as I can."

     Then he vanished into the room.  Vergil made himself not hear Nero's soft, strained cries, or the slurping wet sounds.  He made himself not feel Nero's desperation -- or his fury.  The boy was just as angry as Vergil about this.

 _Soon_ , he promised himself, and Nero, and Dante too.

     Soon.

#

     He dreamed of being hunted.

     A child fleeing the minions of a demon king, with nothing but a sword taller than himself as protection.  Of course they had caught up to him, many times.  Sometimes he had killed them.  Sometimes he had escaped; there was no dishonor in prey outwitting the hunter.  Sometimes, however, they had captured him, and made him theirs for a time.  He had been a beautiful child, and then a beautiful adolescent.  They had relished his pain, and he had endured them as the hunt demanded... but far worse than the ones who hurt him had been the ones who could force pleasure upon him.  Physical rape was honest, at least.  Mind-rape tried to make the victim complicit in his own degradation.

     Webbed fingers tipped with claws, holding him down.  Scent like sweet poison, sapping his strength and will to resist.  Long hair, soft as satin and moving with a mind of its own, wrapping around his every limb and his throat and his genitals.  He had understood the nature of his captor, of course, but beneath the mental onslaught, his fury had dimmed, then diverted.  His mind wandered.  Then had come the whisper of a thought, planting a seed in his subconscious.  _Perhaps you should just relax and enjoy it_.  And that thought had grown, the tide rising, until he had half-drowned in lust.  Not his own lust, though --

#

     Vergil opened his eyes and sat up, propping one elbow on his knee.

     Nero came awake at once and sat up beside him.  The bedchamber was bright, both with the glowing walls of the tower and sunlight through an overhead skylight.  Dante had told Vergil, once Nero subsided into an exhausted slumber, that he was awake anyway and that Vergil might as well get some sleep too.  He judged from the sunlight that it was about noon.

     Nero sat beside him for a while, silent, for which Vergil was grateful.  Slowly, slowly, he edged back from the hair-trigger readiness of fight-or-flight.  A den, he reminded himself -- safe for now, and guarded by his brother.  A bed that smelled of family and pleasure.  His son's warm, steadying acceptance and strength, nearby.

     When he felt capable of control again, Vergil said, "A succubus."

     "None of Zva-ad-zum's people were one of those," Nero said.  "I've met succubi.  Can't even get near them without wanting to fuck, and not slow-burn wanting, either."

     Nevertheless.  Vergil now recognized that overwhelming, insidious pressure on the psyche.  Nothing else had that rancid feel.

     After a moment, Nero said, "So your whole childhood was like that?  After, I mean.  That day."

     That Day.  Always dangerous to dream so close to someone who shared blood and soul.  "Yes."

     Nero let out a slow breath.  "And the succubus who caught you?"

     "It kept me for a year or so."  Such creatures had no true gender.  They shaped themselves for the hunt.  "I was stronger than most of its prey; I lasted longer.  But when it thought it had broken me, I cut it in half."  All of the ones who'd caught him had ended up that way, eventually.

     He felt Nero's cold satisfaction, a match for his own.  Then Nero leaned against him, radiating many things -- thwarted anger towards Vergil's long-ago attackers, lingering anger toward his own, simple pleasure in Vergil's presence, and a wistful desire to be touched again.  Vergil snorted at this last, glancing down at his son's white cropped hair.  "Haven't you had enough?"

     "From you?  Nah."  As if to prove this, Nero flicked off the sheet and stood up on his knees.  "Want to show you something."  He took Vergil's hand, guided it down.  Vergil allowed this, finding familiar down-soft skin and soft curls of white hair and -- he blinked.

     Nero blushed a little, but let Vergil explore the cock ring fully.  It was a silver cuff, same as the others that he still wore, though a little thinner and with rounded edges so it would not cut his skin.  Had it been there the night before, while they eased his artificial lust?  It did not seem Dante's style, but --

     "I made it," Nero said, watching him intently.  "I put it on.  So there would be something they couldn't see."  Vergil's touch had stirred him out of quiescence.  He shut his eyes and sigh-growled, blatantly enjoying the caresses.  He had grown so much, Vergil's boy, in the years since they'd claimed him.  In so many ways.

     "Something just for us?"  Vergil smiled, now stroking Nero with a purpose.  "Even as you showed off for them?"

     Nero bared his teeth.  " _All_ of me is just for you.  I don't give a fuck what they see.  They'll never _have_ it."  Then he looked down, and Vergil's breath caught, just a little.  The boy's eyes had gone burnished, burning gold.  His demon was a strange creature, Vergil had come to understand -- more subservient to his will than either Vergil's or Dante's, or perhaps simply milder in temperament.  But Nero's will was a forceful, savage thing in itself -- especially when he'd decided that he was right about something.  He bent over Vergil then, planting hands on either side of his hips, but never moving out of reach of Vergil's gently flexing hand. 

     "You, though," Nero said.  "You can have whatever you need from me.  You know that."

     Vergil put a hand on Nero's back and guided him to straddle Vergil's waist.  "Whatever I need?"  He slid his free hand up Nero's belly, rippling over the ridges of muscle, spreading his fingers to claim as much territory as possible.

     " _Everything_ you need, yeah."  Nero put his hand over Vergil's stroking, seeking hand -- not interfering, just covering it.  Riding Vergil's desire, and seeing where it led.  He watched Vergil with those eyes, as silver as his own, but edged with their own inner fire.  "Isn't that what you always are, for me?"

     Vergil blinked up at him in surprise, and feeling... he did not know.  Something powerful.  Nero's nostrils twitched as if catching a scent, and then he sat up a little.  Pushed Vergil back to lie down, still following Vergil's hand as it slid up to cup the back of his neck.  Very gently, he laced their fingers together, then pushed Vergil's hand down.  Pinned it to the pillow above Vergil's head -- gently, so gently.  Took Vergil's other hand, and did the same.  He stopped then, gazing down at Vergil and just... waiting?  For what? 

     Then Vergil remembered to breathe, and realized he'd gone defensively still.  He relaxed, and Nero bent to nuzzle his mouth.  A suggestion.  Yes.  Vergil caught Nero's bottom lip in his teeth, closed his lips around it, then let him pop free.  It was a good suggestion.

     Nero grinned and then shifted positions, now stradding Vergil's chest, next his face.  His cock was a lovely, upright thing now, adorned by secret silver, all for Vergil.  Vergil opened his mouth and Nero slid in as if he knew, somehow, that Vergil loved this.  That he'd always liked the feel of smooth weight on his tongue, the salt skin taste, the decadent sound of his own suckling as Nero slid out.  That he never asked for it, even when he craved it, because there had been times when no one had asked, and he'd lacked the power to say no regardless.  Even now, the very act of asking reminded --

     _no_

     Everything he needed.  Vergil shut his eyes and gave himself up to his son's gentle strength -- just for a few moments, but precious, needed ones. 

     And when Nero shuddered and faltered and his hands slipped off Vergil's, Vergil caught his hips and held him still and licked the edge of the silver band while he drank his fill.  Because Nero was his, even while holding him down and fucking his mouth. Wasn't he? So Vergil would claim everything of him, as his due.

     While Nero flopped beside him, gasping in the aftermath, Vergil tucked one hand behind his head, sighed, and brought himself off with the other.  Then he lay there a while, relaxing, and marveling that he felt so good.

     "Fuck."  Nero sighed, pulled himself together, and sat up, with visible effort.  He glanced up at the skylight, where the sun slanted now toward midafternoon, and scrubbed a hand over his hair.  "I need a damn shower before we deal with those assholes again."

     But he turned before he got up, and grazed the backs of his fingers along Vergil's cheek.  Vergil watched him warily -- without even realizing that it was wary; some things were simply habit -- which made Nero half-smile. He always seemed to love Vergil's threat displays.  "Let Dante get some sleep, you fucking asshole."

     Vergil caught his hand, holding it for a moment.  "He stole one of my stuffed animals when we were five.  Shoved it down the toilet.  Told our father I'd done it, when the toilet exploded."

     Nero stared at him, then burst out laughing.  Vergil let Nero's hand go, and the boy -- who was not a boy anymore, but the endearment came from habit these days -- headed out of the room to find the bathroom, still laughing.

     Dante strolled in and sat down on the bed beside Vergil, an amused look on his face.  "You're never going to let me live the exploding toilet down, are you?"  He rested a hand on Vergil's belly.

     "Should I?"  Vergil took Dante's hand and laced their fingers together. 

     "Do you even remember what kind of animal it was?"

     "A parrot, I believe."

     "Eh, you just made that up."  Dante shifted to lie down beside him on the bed.  "I don't need to sleep.  Mind if I just hang out a bit, though?"

     "No."  So they lay side by side for a while, gazing up at the lowering sun and sharing the silence and the scent of comfort. 

     After a time, slowly, Vergil began, "Dante.  That Day, I..."

     Dante squeezed his hand.  "Nah."

     And Vergil fell silent, apart from letting out an exhalation that felt suspiciously like relief. He should have known that Dante would never need an explanation. The sunlight grew longer. 

     They had gotten up, necessarily beginning the process of preparing for their second audience with the demon king, when Vergil gradually became aware of an odd, rapidly-gathering tension at the back of his mind.  He frowned as he finished fastening his vest, then turned, letting instinct pull him in the direction of whatever he was feeling. 

     Outside of the room.  Past the protective wards he'd erected around the suite --

     Dante, who'd been sitting at the table watching Vergil dress, abruptly stood up and called the Dante to his hand as he caught whatever Vergil had picked up on.  "Nero?"

     "Yes," said Vergil, summoning Yamato and flashing into demonshape before blasting out of the room, with Dante a snarl of red on his heels.

     The tension had grown in Vergil's mind, and developed a sound -- deep, rumbling, forbidding.  The walls shook with it.  A voice, familiar in its furious vulgarity even though Vergil had never before heard this depth of rage in the boy: _Fuck you!_   And then no more words.

     Downstairs.  It had not occurred to Vergil that the Nameless Tower, being a thing from ancient times, lacked plumbing.  Nero had had to go down five flights to find the bathing chamber, well outside the protective wards.  Vergil followed the scent of water and soap down the tower's central atrium, then whipped his wings shut and shot through the narrow corridor on all fours, leaving burning claw-marks along the walls as he reached the chamber --

     And stopped, flashing back to humanshape out of pure surprise.  Beside him, Dante did the same, cursing in soft awe.

     The thing that took up most of the spacious, high-ceilinged bathchamber was discernible as Nero... just.  It was still humanish in general conformation, still horned, still armed with clawed, ghostly wings -- but somewhere along the way, a second set of wings had sprouted from his back, black and steel-feathered and distinctly, dangerously, physical.  And he was _enormous_ \-- easily as big as Urizen, if not a little bigger.  As Nero advanced on his foe in a stalking crouch, his thighs were wider than the marble pillars of the chamber, his claws massive enough to leave meter-deep gouges in the ancient stone.

     This did not trouble Vergil.  He had always expected that Nero would eventually achieve a more powerful form, as he and Dante had done.  No, what made Vergil narrow his eyes was the way Nero _trembled_ in the depths of his rage -- and the way he opened his mouth to let loose a titanic roar that only marginally sounded like Nero's voice this time.  That voice didn't sound sane.  The rage had taken him somewhere beyond humanity, and control.  And since the demon king Zva-ad-zum now lay bleeding and possibly dead in a pit of rubble at the other end of the room --

     Vergil flicked across the room, deliberately positioning himself within the range of his son's vision.  From this vantage, it was even clearer that there was little of Nero left in this iteration of him.  Yellow, slit-pupilled eyes had fixed on their target -- and privately, Vergil marveled that he'd ever thought of the boy's demon as _mild_.  He'd forgotten:  it took battle to bring out the true beast in him.

     _And what a magnificent beast it is_ , Vergil thought, admiringly.  Then he said, "Nero.  Stand down."

     The beast, in the midst of gathering itself for a final leap, froze, then whipped around to glower at Vergil.  Vergil was ready, braced to fight.  The few times he'd faced the full, mad might of Dante's demon, he'd had to --

     Nero sniffed in his direction, then huffed out a gust of hot, sulfur-laden breath.  Then hunkered down, drawing his four wings back from striking position to fold along his back. Well. It was nice to be obeyed, for once.

     Dante appeared beside Nero, sword propped on his shoulder, whistling appreciatively.  "Well, look at you," he said, strolling over to stand by one of Nero's massive, armored shoulders.  He put out a hand to scratch along one featherlike horn.  "Not bad, kid.  Not bad."

     And Nero _purred_ , massive yellow eyes half-closing in pleasure as he leaned in to Dante's caress.  Vergil tensed again at a hissing sound nearby, but this was only Nero's _tail_ moving to curl about his clawed feet.  The thing was covered in feathers, but otherwise it was long and prehensile and unmistakably a tail.

     "Thief," Vergil said, amused.  Then, shaking his head, he turned to focus on Nero's erstwhile target. 

     Not Zva-ad-zum -- or his guard-demon's corpse, which Vergil now noticed disintegrating in a corner.  No, the focus of Nero's rage turned out to be Myst, who huddled coughing on the floor with one bloody, truncated arm up defensively.  The spokesman of the Dominance Zva-ad-zum had seen better days.  His hair was in disarray, his robes shredded and soaked with purplish blood.  Wing-claw strike, Vergil judged, with a clinical eye.  If Nero had bothered to summon the Black King, Myst would be dead already.

     "Ah, Nero," Vergil chided, moving to stand over Myst with Yamato drawn.  "I've warned you about playing with your prey."  Nero made a sulky sound; Dante chuckled and kept scratching.

     "Th-this is," Myst attempted, then he coughed up a gout of blood before continuing.  "This is --  Your _son_.  Assaulted our Dominance -- "

     "And defeated him, I see," Vergil said.  "But somehow I suspect the 'Dominance' was never the real threat."  He stepped forward again and put his foot on one of Myst's hand-claws, visible now through a shredded sleeve.  Myst hissed and tried to pull away, and Vergil twitched the Yamato so that its point hovered in front of the demon's face; Myst went terror-still.  The shape of the wing-hand was different from what Vergil expected to see.  Stubbier, less like a wing and more like a human hand that had simply grown overlarge fingers...

     " _You're_ a half-breed," Vergil said, raising his eyebrows as he guessed it.  He cocked his head, ignoring Myst's attempts to assume another form as cover.  "And terrible at glamour.  One of your parents must have been a succubus.  What was the other?"

     Myst slumped, giving up at last.  "Human," he said.

     "Huh," said Dante.  "Then why are you a little bitch?"

     Myst glared at him and did not respond.  "Because not all hybrids are blessed with the strengths of both lineages," Vergil guessed aloud.  "Or rather, not all of us recognize both lineages _as_ a strength, at least at first."  He considered Myst, then Zva-ad-zum, who had begun to stir, and nodded, finally understanding.  "And because if a hybrid wants to try ruling the underworld, we had better be either too powerful to defeat, or very damned clever."

     "Ohhhhh."  Dante came over.  "So this guy -- "  He gestured with the Dante at Myst, who flinched, "must have succubus powers, but they're only half strength, and slow.  But he still managed to enthrall that guy."  He swung the sword toward Zva-ad-zum, who had sat up, rubbing his head.  "Who's strictly second-string in underworld terms, but I guess since Vergil fucked up the line of succession a few years ago, demons would buy him as the new king.  For a while."

     "But what our little shadow-king here _really_ wants," Vergil said, watching Myst, "is someone more powerful to play his front man.  Someone strong or connected enough to handle any rivals, but weak enough to be controlled by a half-succubus.  And he set his sights on Nero."

     "Not at first," Nero said. 

     He'd managed to return to human shape, Vergil noted, but there was still something distinctly feral in the way Nero stalked forward to join them.  It did not help that he wore only pants.  His fists were still clenched, and his spectral wings had not faded with the transformation as they usually did.  These were folded on Nero's back, but restlessly, the claw-hands flexing on his shoulders as if they wanted to rend Myst again. 

     "He actually said he wanted _you_ , originally," Nero said.  "The demon world might accept you because you used to be Urizen.  But also..."  Vergil felt Nero's gaze touch him briefly.  "He'd, ah, heard from other succubi that you'd been enthralled, once.  He figured he could do it again, if you were distracted enough by whatever was happening to me.  But then he met you, and changed his mind." 

     Dante snorted a laugh.  Vergil ignored this, hyperfocused on Myst.  "And you thought Nero would make a better thrall."  He crouched then.  This put them eye to eye, and it should have been dangerous for Vergil.  A succubus' direct gaze was the source of its power.  He did feel a quick, panicked flutter of magical effort on Myst's part, as the other demon drew back from whatever he saw in Vergil's face.  Vergil bared his teeth and slapped the magic back so hard that Myst yelped, going even paler.

     "Rock-paper-scissors for who gets to kill him?" Dante suggested.

     "We can't," Nero said, though he sighed in palpable frustration.  "They're here to negotiate a peace treaty.  We kill them all, and some demon king wannabe might use it as a pretext to invade the human world."

     "Well, shit," Dante said.  He moved away from them and strolled over to Zva-ad-zum, who was finally fully conscious.  Dante was less than half Zva-ad-zum's size, but the bigger demon shrank away from him as he stopped there.  "Hey.  You caught up on everything?  I figure you weren't all here, exactly, til about now, but the enthrallment's broken, right?"

     "Yes," Zva-ad-zum said in his rumbling voice, throwing a baleful look toward Myst.  "My apologies, King Dante, King Vergil, Prince Nero.  I would never have sought to challenge you, if not for this creature's machinations."

     "Well, aren't you an eloquent one."  Dante slapped the creature's knee.  "So, wanna be demon king for real?"

     "The fuck?" Nero said, frowning.  Vergil kept looking at Myst, who had begun to hyperventilate.

     "Simple."  Dante glanced at them over his shoulder.  "This guy's not strong enough to last long as demon king -- not without a backer.  Bitch-boy there had the right idea about that much.  So how about this:  they set up a treaty with us, and Zoomy here -- "

     "Zva-ad-zum," said Zva-ad-zum.

     "'S what I said.  Hush, I'm strategizing.  So, Zumba here can go tell the demon world that he's the only thing standing between them and... _us_.  The Qliphoth-killing, portal-slamming, high-order-demon-offing Sparda boys, who eat underworld kings for lunch and shit rainbows."  He spread his arms, beaming.  "We send this guy back, he keeps the demon world in line for us because he knows which side his bread's buttered on, and we get to go home."

     "We keep this one," Vergil said, to Myst.  Myst made a little sound of terror.

     "Whaddaya say, Zoomster?"  Dante turned to the big demon again.  "Sound like a deal to you?"

     "That is acceptable," Zva-ad-zum said.  He got to his feet, more or less healed from whatever Nero had done to him, and exhaled.  "I thank you for your mercy.  And for ridding me of that half-succubus."

     Then Zva-ad-zum inhaled in concentration, and the Nameless Tower pulsed once as a hole opened in the air behind him.  With a polite bow, Zva-ad-zum stepped backwards into it, and vanished into nothingness as the hole flicked shut.  There was a faint hum throughout the tower, declining in pitch, and then the glowing walls began to fade back to their original solid gray in color.  The link between the two realms had closed at last.

     Vergil stood, gazing down at Myst as the room grew darker.  Nero stood beside him, hands both real and spectral flexing, his eyes twin bright glimmers of gold in the dimness.  "Dante?" Vergil asked, out of politeness.  He felt like sharing, this time.

     "You guys have fun," Dante said, waving at them.  Vergil saw this from the corner of his eye, and saw him turn, stretching.  "I'm gonna take a nap."

     He sauntered off, leaving Vergil and Nero to their prey.

#

     The Nameless Tower sank back into the earth from which it sprang, and -- cautiously -- humans returned to the area.  There had been no demon invasion this time, after all, and the world was full of strange things and strange happenings.  If no one died, most counted it as a kind of victory.  That they were correct in this case was incidental.

     Nero would not wear the double-hemmed coat or low-slung pants, when they returned to Devil May Cry.  This, Vergil felt certain, was Dante's fault, because he'd started teasing the boy by calling him "Little Prince," and it was going to start a fight between them soon if he didn't stop it.  Vergil guessed that some of Dante's behavior might simply be because he was feeling neglected, so he declared a corrective hunt.  When it was done and the prey in hand, he and Nero stretched Dante out between them, Nero keeping his uncle's fool mouth busy while Vergil chastised him most thoroughly from behind, while writing _You Will Not Call My Son Names_ in delicate red letters all over his brother's lovely flesh.

     When that was done, however, he and Nero kept Dante between them so that they could lick the red from his skin, kiss the sighs from his mouth, and remind each other that none of them was alone.  As even this wound down, Nero summoned the silver cuffs from etherspace again.  He'd kept the armband for every day wear, but the rest, he told them, he would wear only in private.  For them, and them alone.

     As the other two drifted off to sleep, Vergil found himself keeping watch, memorizing the lines of their faces and feeling something profound and still within himself for the first time in... well, ever.  He did not understand it.  Did it have something to do with the fact that they now ruled the human world, whether the humans knew it or not?  And technically, since they controlled Zva-ad-zum, they ruled the demon world as well. This meant Vergil had the power and status he'd always sought, at last -- not alone, perhaps, but between the three of them, he'd never felt more certain of his ability to protect the things that mattered to him.  He, the once-demon king; Dante, slayer of demon kings; and Nero, who had the potential to be more powerful than both of them. 

     But more importantly... they had trusted him, and would for as long as he remained worthy of that trust.  Until the day he betrayed them.

     "Which will never come," he murmured.  Then he blinked, surprised by his own conviction.

     Nero jerked a little out of half-sleep.  "He's doing it again," he mumbled against Dante's shoulder, scrunching up his face.  "Make him quit it."

     "Yeah, okay, kid," Dante sighed, patting Nero's head and not bothering to open his eyes.  "Vergil, quit it."

     He could not help smiling.  "As you wish," he said, and settled down to rest with the other lords of the two realms.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote 5000 words of this one from Nero's perspective before realizing it was Vergil's story, scrapping it, and starting over. What a pain.
> 
> I also intended this one to be lighthearted, but it kept going into darker places -- mostly because Vergil's the one narrating, and he's not exactly a lighthearted upbeat kind of guy. This one took a lot of worldbuilding, too. It's frustrating to realize just how sketchy the world of DMC is. Is it Earth? They've obviously got some Christianesque mythology and Europeanish architecture going on. But how is it that nobody seems to have adapted to constant intrusions by the demon world, apart from the whole devil hunter system? Like, in DMC5, did anybody else think it made no sense for bunches of humans to form a crowd around a gigantic demonic growth that appeared in the middle of a city? After Temen-ni-gru, after Fortuna, after enough demon invasions that a whole industry has grown up around killing them, I would bug the fuck out at the first sign of weirdness. So that's what I wrote here: people with a sense of self-preservation.
> 
> I've been wondering why Nero doesn't have a Sin Devil Trigger form. He's canonically tough enough to go toe to toe with SDT Vergil (who's tired at the time), but if he can DT then it stands to reason that he can SDT. And if his DT is that powerful, his SDT is going to be... a lot. So I decided to go there.
> 
> Apologies for the use of the term "half-breed." Vergil knows it's a slur, which is why he gets pissy about it. He's throwing it back in Myst's face when he uses it; hope that comes through.
> 
> I am hoping that this massive nearly-10K word mess is the end. I guess we'll see. -_-
> 
> Oh -- and about the comment moderation... I had a commenter turn nasty with the last story I posted, because I wasn't willing to change my headcanon to fit theirs. (Insert eyeroll.) Since AO3 doesn't have a ban button, I'm going to have to do this for a while. Your comment won't appear immediately if you make one; I'll have to approve it whenever I'm next online. Sorry!


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